Silver Sands
by Giver of Roses
Summary: A voyage to the end of the world leaves none the same. There is a sinister presence on the Pearl as they float through perpetual darkness. The evil taints everyone, creating confusion and hatred. REVIEW MINE AND I'LL REVIEW YOURS. on hold.
1. The Bird that Would Have Died

Elizabeth was devastated, there was no other way to put it. And as she sat on the window sill, watching the sun shining brightly, lighting the jungle, and seeing the birds chirping cheerfully, she was also angry.

If the weather _had_ been reflecting her mood, then the lovely tree that a particularly obnoxious jay was now lounging in, would have been flattened by the ferocious gale that she could feel stirring inside. The sky would be as black as the _Pearl's_ sails and the wind tearing swiftly into anything barring it's way as the sky wept endlessly.

She had realized, the moment she had stepped into the longboat and seen Will's face, that the engagement was off. No matter what she said to him, it was over, and the caustic knowledge had settled like a poison around her heart, threatening to kill.

The truth couldn't save her, it would only mire her. Love was lost because of one lie, one thing meant to remain hidden. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She loved him. The one time Jack had decided to do what was right, ended in chains and a watery grave. It was _her_ fault and her heart wouldn't let her forget it.

The irony of the whole situation was almost laughable. _Almost_. In order to save Will and herself, she had betrayed a friend to his death, with something as simple, and deadly to her, as a kiss. And the scary thing was, deep down, there was a small part of her that had enjoyed the kiss.

And now, a week later from the horrid ordeal, she was setting sail with Barbossa, someone she loathed and with Will, who now despised her, all to undo the damage which _she _had caused in the first place.

It was a mess...One big mess with the word PIRATE in big red letters plastered all over.

Elizabeth allowed the gentile rocking of the ship to lull her to sleep. Her dream was blurry, as if seeing something through a clouded glass. She saw the Pearl, snapping like twig, in an uproar of white water. She was sitting in the longboat, clutching her knees, her eyes brimming with tears. She could feel the intensity of the glare Will was giving her, she shivered, tears running down her face. The glare didn't let up, the anger was still there.

The ocean darkened, and an unearthly mist came up out of the depths, enveloping Elizabeth in darkness. She now stood on an unfamiliar shore. She could only see twenty yards around her, the rest of the island shrouded, shadowed, distorted.

The ground was shaking. Elizabeth fell to her knees, hearing something else besides the earthquake. A voice singing in the distance, a voice she knew.

_"Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me..._

_...Yo ho...a pirate's life...a pirate's...life..._

_for...a pirate's life...yo ho...for me..."_

The ground stopped shaking. Elizabeth didn't notice, all she knew at the moment was the song, lapsing into itself. Strong in parts and then receding almost to a whisper... Ethereal and at the same time, the realest thing she had known in days.

_"We pillage...and...don't give..._

_a hoot...pillage and plunder...drink_

_up...drink...me hearties...drink up me hearties_

_...yo...ho...a pirate's...life...life...for..."_

Elizabeth stood quickly, and the singing stopped. The sky quickly darkened. She felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled around, trembling. Nothing. She tentatively felt the area with her hands, expecting an attack at any moment. Once again, nothing.

_"We're beggars...Blighters...ne'er do well cads..._

_drink up...me hearties yo ho...and blighters...ne'er do well..._

_...cads, drink up...me hearties...me hearties...yo ho..yo ho..._

_a pirate's life for...me...for me...a pirate's_

_life...for..."_

The wind picked up again, blowing silver grains into the sky. And with the wind, she heard the song again, much louder this time. Although she couldn't remember whose voice it was, she knew one thing for certain. Whoever it was, he was coming closer.

* * *

**Hello. I apologize, but the first few chapters are going to be a tad boring and I think Elizabeth is slightly out of character in this chapter. Keep reading though! It does get inturesting. Promise.**

**Oh and REVIEW please! I love reviews! Flames and anonymous reveiws accepted.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters AT ALL. But the idea and plot are mine.**


	2. Distorted Song in the Distance

_"We're beggars...Blighters...ne'er do well cads..._

_drink up...me hearties yo ho...and blighters...ne'er do well..._

_...cads, drink up...me hearties...me hearties...yo ho..yo ho..._

_a pirate's...pirate's...a pirate's life for...me...for me...a pirate's_

_life...a...life for..."_

_The wind picked up again, blowing silver grains into the sky. And with the wind, she heard the song again, much louder this time. Although she couldn't remember whose voice it was, she knew one thing for certain. Whoever it was, he was coming closer._

Elizabeth fell to her hands and knees, suddenly exhausted, wanting nothing more then to lay back on the soft sand and sleep. She was having difficulty staying awake, it was almost painful to remain upright and keep her eyes open.

_"We extort...pilfer...filch...sack...drink up_

_filch and sack...we extort...drink up...me 'hearties_

_yo ho...drink up me hearties...yo ho!"_

The wind returned, leaving the taste of salt in her mouth, and the smell of the sea on her hair and clothes. Her mind barely registered that she could now see someone in the distance. Unable to keep them open any longer, her eyes closed. She was swaying in rhythm to the song despite her growing fatigue.

_"Yo ho, yo ho. A pirate's life for me!_

_We kindle and char, inflame and ignite_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho!_

_We burn up the city, we're really a fright._

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho!_

_Yo ho, yo ho. A pirate's life for me!"_

She found herself humming along as the figure came closer. Subconsciously smothering the intense feeling of foreboding that had been building ever since she had begun this mad journey. The sky lightened to a deep pink and she immediately stopped humming, feeling a sudden chill in the wind. She sat down, sensing a change in her surroundings. They now looked dangerous, from the pallid sand to the wane sky above.

Recoiling slightly, her hand brushed iron. She looked down, hand hovering centimeters above cold, iron, shackles. She grabbed the shackles, there was a blinding light, and a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

_"Through corridors, gray. _

_Beyond a tapestry, red. _

_Where our voices stray_

_To whisper in the head._

_A hand of Brass..._

_Now quite still_

_Encased in glass_

_On a sill._

_Arrow's aim, long and broken_

_Tarnished new_

_Showing words never spoken_

_To construe._

_Below and reposing_

_Showing the way_

_Beyond the ending_

_To garish day."_

The whisper faded. She looked down, pale and shaking. White hands clutched the shackles in a death grip. The thought of a death grip made her shudder. The whisper started up again and the riddle repeated over and over. She staggered towards the water. The sea was unnaturally calm. Not the slightest ripple marred the surface. Her gaze shifted away from the enchanted waters to the shackles hanging limp in her hands.

Elizabeth squinted. Something was laying in the water, just yards away. With a step toward the thing, a fog as dense as the earth she stood on closed around her. She took another step, and the acrid smell of rancid meat and decaying flesh filled the air, making her gasp and her heart pound.

The riddle instantly stopped, someone was shouting in the distance. Friend or foe. No matter. She took another step, this time into the frigid water. Nothing happened, nothing there but the unnatural fog and an almost tangible silence. _Nothing_ there. At least, that is what Elizabeth kept telling herself, but seconds later she was fighting against someone determined to keep her under.


	3. Nearly Drowned by a Memory

_Elizabeth squinted. Something was laying in the water, just yards away. With a step toward the thing, a fog as dense as the earth she stood on closed around her. She took another step, and the acrid smell of rancid meat and decaying flesh filled the air, making her gasp and her heart pound._

_The riddle instantly stopped, someone was shouting in the distance. Friend or foe. No matter. She took another step, this time into the frigid water. Nothing happened, _nothing_ there but the unnatural fog and an almost tangible silence. Nothing there. At least, that's what Elizabeth kept telling herself, but seconds later she was fighting against someone determined to keep her under._

Suddenly her whole world shifted and she was no longer in the water. She opened her eyes, and the familiar faces of Gibbs and Will swam into focus.

"She's awake now." It was Will speaking. He had a hard look on his face she hadn't seen before. She half expected him to bow to her the way he was carrying on. He said nothing to her, only bowing slightly before leaving. The formality hurt her and Gibbs looked annoyed at his exit.

Gibbs sighed and sat down on the bed that she had only _just _noticed seconds before. She was amazed at how many emotions he managed to show in his face. He was definitely annoyed but his eyes were greedy and the color had drained from his face, giving her the impression that he was scared of something.

"You've had quite an..._adventure_, Miss Swann."

"What?" Her brow wrinkled. The (now uncomfortably familiar) feelings of fear and panic gnawed at her thoughts, making her jumpy.

Gibbs sighed again (Elizabeth couldn't help thinking something was wrong with the poor fellow, the way he kept sighing and moaning...). He rubbed his forehead with and heavily bandaged hand.

"Mr Gibbs, what happened?!" Not a little disturbed by the blood seeping through them and staining the cuff of his shirt. Gibbs glared at the bandages as if they were the ultimate source of all things evil in the world. He turned to Elizabeth, a crazy gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He didn't look just greedy, but mad. Insanely gleeful all of a sudden.

"Never mind me." he said, bringing a half empty bottle of rum to his mouth. That explained a lot.

"How much do you remember?". He leaned forward in anticipation. (All she could think of was how disgusting he smelled, never mind his question. She doubted he'd bathed in a very, very long time... and in her society that could be months... )

Elizabeth blinked, puzzling over the question. She was aware of what was happening to her now, but there was a small, frightened part of herself still feeling the hard hands bruising her shoulders as she struggled less and less, life leaving her as quickly as her last bubbles of air. She could even still hear in the distance the voice that had been shouting to her seconds before she'd been forced under.

Will returned, carrying water and food. Angry as ever, he shoved them into her lap. He sat down in the corner, arms folded, seemingly content with listening.

"I remember going to sleep on the first day into the voyage..." She muttered halfheartedly, much too interested in watching the candle next to her sputter as the ship rocked.

"Do you remember the island?"

She shuddered. It was silent as she simply sat there, thinking. Eventually she shook her head 'no'.

"The broken statues?"

She again shook her head, more confused than ever.

"The burning Clocks? The--"

"--_What_? No. I don't...Remember _any _of this." (Burning... clocks...? She gave Gibbs a weird look. She'd come to a conclusion: he'd lost his mind.)

"The paintings? THE TAPESTRIES? THE TUNNELS? THE WORDS! THE WORDS! YOU CAN'T HAVE FORGOTTEN THEM!" A look of madness overshadowed Gibbs' face. The room suddenly appeared much colder, much harsher. Will did nothing. Elizabeth's eyes darted toward him quickly to see his reaction. He was smiling...? (Needless to say, that was even more unsettling to her than Gibbs' ranting...)

"But you _must_! You must _remember_!" Gibbs hissed, leaning closer. If she could have, she would have leaned even farther away from him but she had already pressed herself into the corner of her bed and the wall.

"Mr. Gibbs! THAT IS _ENOUGH_!"

Frightened, Elizabeth turned just in time to see an extremely angry Barbossa charge in wearing the rattiest overcoat and the largest hat she had ever seen. Looking anything but comical, Barbossa pointed to the door, then holding a very deadly sword inches from Gibbs' chin. At first Gibbs' looked angry then the magnitude of the situation finally hit him and he slumped over a little.

Physically spent, he got to his feet and after an apologetic look at Elizabeth he left clutching the empty bottle of rum to his chest.

"You too, Turner." Barbossa growled.

Unlike Gibbs, Will Turner did not wish to flatter Elizabeth with anything at all. He stood up and left, grinning all the while, with out so much as a minute glance in her direction. Elizabeth shuddered as Barbossa sat down on the chair Will had been occupying.

"I apologize, Miss Swann. It _has _been a hard month. For all of us."

"Mr. Gibbs included." He added, as an afterthought. But Elizabeth didn't notice that. She was too stunned...

_"A hard _month?! But..." And for once in her life, she was at a loss for words, thoughts even, to make sense of or even handle what she was hearing. Nothing her mind supplied explained anything that was happening. She had fallen asleep on the first day of the voyage (And what a crummy day _that_had been. But it had been the first day... she was certain of it... Wasn't she...?) and had a dream\nightmare whatever...What didn't make sense though was that she had woken up a...a... a _month _later!? Well, at least she thought she had... Had she?

"...Barbossa...Was I, ah..._Awake _all month...?"She said quietly. Her eyes were very wide (she looked on the verge of tears) and she was very pale suddenly.

Barbossa looked dumbfounded, and such was the rare occurrence, that if it had happened at any other moment in her life she would have laughed out loud (and would have had to have been forcibly silenced.) But the look only increased her anxiety, making her hands shake and her voice tremble, barely audible.

"What I mean to say, Captain, is...Was... I _awake_? At all?"

"Of course." Barbossa gave her another odd look.

"Oh and I'm not Captain anymore... Although, Miss Swann..." He stood up and brushed an invisible speck of dirt off of his grimy shoulder.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking that you can now get by with not respecting me. It is _Mr_. Barbossa to you..." and with that said he walked off head held high, gigantic maroon feathers bouncing wildly about him like a dilapidated flock of birds and his ratty coat billowing out behind him. It must have been a terrible blow to his pride to no longer be captain... From the little time she'd known him, he was a very proud man and comfortable being in charge of others.

Elizabeth stared. Feeling that there was nothing she could do to understand the situation at the moment, she surveyed the room, making a point of not thinking about what had just happened. The room she was in was simple. A small bed, wooden chair, stand and candles. One of which was burning brightly... revealing a piece of parchment she hadn't noticed before. Curious, and happy for the distraction, she pulled out the sheet. It was the riddle from her dream...? Scanning it quickly she noticed three things. The last two things nearly killed her. Her vision clouded, and she slid to the floor sobbing as behind her the candle spluttered in the faint breeze caused by someone entering close by. She didn't notice.

_**One**:the poem was much longer than the one in her dream._

_"Through corridors, gray. _

_Beyond a tapestry, red. _

_Where voices stray_

_To whisper in the head._

_Hands of Brass..._

_Now quite still_

_Cased in glass_

_On a sill."_

_"Arrow's aim, long and broken_

_Tarnished new._

_Showing words never spoken_

_To construe._

_Below and reposing_

_Showing the way_

_Beyond the ending_

_To garish day."_

_"Simple song_

_That is sung forever._

_Never wrong,_

_Whispered to the clever._

_What we once had lost_

_Time will mend_

_And softly exhaust_

_Words not penned."_

_"That which is heard,_

_Mirrored, and seen_

_Swiftly inferred_

_Amongst the keen._

_Sent on by our tears_

_Of mourning and dreams_

_Dying with the fears_

_In our silent screams."_

_**  
Two**:It was unmistakable, she knew the writing. She had seen it many times before. The careful slant of the T's, the fastidious flourishes and ornate lettering. It was in Jack's hand. The same Jack she had chained to his own beloved ship and drowned weeks ago. (Months ago if that deranged Barbossa and his garish hat were right.)_

_**Three**:The particular sheen on the words revealed the third as the candle again spluttered and went out, plunging the room and it's two desolate visitors into darkness. The ink was still wet. This had been written no more then fifteen minutes ago._

Someone sighed, and another candle was lit. The sigh went unnoticed by Elizabeth, but the sudden appearance of light did not. She stopped crying. A hand rested on her shoulder to stop her shaking. She closed her eyes tightly as the person sat down beside her, still touching her shoulder.

Elizabeth refused to open her eyes. She didn't want her suspicions confirmed when she did so. She briefly considered pretending to faint so that the person would leave her to suffer alone. . . and she would have likely been left at peace if it had been anyone else next to her now. No, that would not work.

"What do you want?" She whispered.


	4. Surprise, surprise!

_Elizabeth refused to open her eyes. She didn't want her suspicions confirmed when she did so. She briefly considered pretending to faint so the person would leave her to suffer through her emotions alone, and she would have likely been left at peace if it had been anyone else next to her now. No, that would not work. _

_"What do you want?" She whispered, eyes still closed._

She knew there would be no response, she didn't _want _an answer. Even so, the silence became so intense that she knew she would scream if it wasn't broken soon. To distract her from such unpleasant thoughts as speaking aloud, she fingered the parchment in her hands.

She felt the ink smear and instantly, that stubborn annoyance sitting beside her whose name she was loathe even to _think_, grunted and quickly pulled his hand off of her shoulder. Elizabeth smiled, thinking the occurrence a victory of that would ultimately lead to her being left alone completely.

Oddly, and out of no conscious action on Elizabeth's part, the question still hung in the air, convoluted with the intense emotions that had been experienced over the past few weeks (or _month, _if she was to believe, ahem, **_Mr_**. _Barbossa_.).

Without a word, the person stood up, set down the candle with a soft clunk, and walked away. She noted the heavy footfalls, and the infinitesimal clinking of metals as the person walked off and wondered at the sordid state she now found herself in, if there was any hope, any truth to be found in this unpleasant circumstance.

When the candle had finally burned down and died with a pained sigh, the door to her room opened. She turned towards the door in slight curiosity and looked away when she discovered who had entered. Gibbs.

The bright lantern he held revealed the deep bags under his eyes, the torn clothes, and made the bloodied bandages glow ominously. He sighed, set the lantern down on the stand, sat in the rickety chair and sighed again. His shoulders slumped and his head lolled to the side. He was exhausted, that much was obvious.

"I came to..." His voice faded into silence as he brought a stained handkerchief to his brow.

Elizabeth said nothing. She could not think straight, much less talk. Gibbs simply stared back, clutching a nearly empty bottle of rum loosely as he tilted his head slightly, and for the fifth time that night he sighed yet again.

"...I came... to ask pardon miss Swann...Haven't been myself lately..." His eyes glazed over, and a pained look came to his face.

"Don't think any of us...will ever be..._quite_... the same again." He muttered.

"...After the island...Everything turned out right I suppose..._Still_..." He started to bring the bottle to his face again but stopped midway, a curious look on his face. She watched as several different emotions battled for control across his face; greed, anger, fear, relief, and anguish.

His eyes widened, but wether with shock or anger she couldn't tell. For one so weak he reacted quickly. Seconds later with shaking hands, he was holding the paper Jack had scrawled the poem onto.

He jumped up suddenly, the chair clattered to the floor, and he narrowed his eyes at her and shook his fist.

"I knew it!" He shouted. Determined and angry, Gibbs staggered out of the room with the paper.

Elizabeth watched all of this with an expression most aptly defined as annoyance. With a dismissive wave towards the fallen chair she lit a candle and blew out the lantern. She preferred the softer light at the moment.

Turning away from the open door she gazed at the flame with lifted eyebrows. She had been through enough and had decided hours ago that she would allow nothing to upset her till morning. Besides, one can only handle so much before a complete mental breakdown, and if her shaking hands were anything to go by she was well on her way towards one. In the distance she heard laughter, and faintly, Gibbs shouting. She couldn't sleep yet. She was afraid what would happen when she did.

She had an excruciating headache that made the slightest creak a canon blast, and against all of her better judgement, while the night was still young, she fell into a fitful slumber, waking up every hour until the sunlight streamed through the door inimically and she could no longer fight to sleep. Fortunately she had not dreamed, and as far as she could tell, only one night had passed.

The door was still open, and she stood in front of it debating wether or not she _wanted_ to leave the room. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was afraid of leaving. Although, as to _why _she was afraid, she had not the vaguest notion. Elizabeth _hated _being afraid, hated what fear _did _to people, what it was doing to _her_.

She stepped through the door and looked around for anything or anyone familiar. She didn't recognize the ship, but as for someone familiar... she was surprised at _who _was leaning against the wall, a good foot from the door frame sound asleep. Will.

She sighed and walked past him, not entirely sure _why _she was suddenly so sad. Who had she expected to see there? Not Will, _that _was certain. What was he doing there anyway?

Awhile later she found herself leaning against a barrel of tar watching the sky darken, and the angry storm clouds roll in. The sea was choppy, and with no land in sight she felt small, very, very small.

"Found you."

Barbossa stood stiffly, kneading the large felt hat in his hands, and from the looks of it he had done that quite often. Then in the distance came a loud _twang_.

Barbossa grimaced, "The captain wants to see you. _Miss Swann_.".

The emphasis on her name irritated her. She did not enjoy being mocked, especially by Barbossa. With another grimace he motioned for her to follow him. She stood still for a moment to spite him.

The sunlight exposed a deep gash in his coat, stiffened with dried blood, that she had not noticed before. He looked older than she remembered and as he walked he limped heavily. He hadn't been limping the night before.

Finally, Barbossa stopped in front of a battered door. The frame had deep gauges cut into it, and suspicious brown stains on the bottom of the door. What really surprised her was the dagger, embedded to the hilt, in the center of the door . Elizabeth involuntarily stepped back as Barbossa chuckled and placed his hat on his head.

"Wait here." He buoyantly walked into the room and after a quick smile at the angry woman slammed the door in her face. There was a large thump, followed quickly by another sharp twang. Minutes later the door slammed open and judging by his crimson face and shaking fists Barbossa was definitely angry.

She smiled wickedly. "Have a pleasant _chat _Barbossa?"

His eyes narrowed alarmingly fast. "**Mr**...**_MR _**Barbossa!" He growled. Barbossa stormed away muttering under his breath examining a fresh tear in his bedraggled black coat.

Elizabeth paused before opening the door, feeling the battered wood under her fingers, the old and new splinters threatening to pierce her skin. Pulling her hand away from the door frame her fingers brushed metal. Pieces-of-eight were embedded into the frame in such a haphazard manner they appeared to have been thrown there. Looking back at the dagger she squinted slightly in concentration trying to remember if she had heard anything at all last night.

This room wasn't far from where she had stayed the night, surely she would have heard _something_? The coins were recently minted so they couldn't have been put there for decoration when this ship was built, besides, who wanted silver wasted in decoration, and on a _pirate _ship? The answer wasn't important, so she shrugged the thoughts off and opened the door slowly.

For reasons she could not even begin to fathom, someone had decided that the greatest place for a lantern was to have it dangling from the ceiling by way of a three foot chain. Seeing as this was a ship, the lantern swayed madly back and forth, creating monstrous shadows that morphed, enlarged, and vanished in seconds all over the large room.

Giving the rappelling lantern a wide berth she examined her surroundings with an air of indifference. She was surprised at how easy it was to bottle up her emotions, she would _have _to if she was to have even a _half_ civilized conversation with the Captain if he was who she thought he was.

The air was musty, laced with the pungent smell of rum, old and new. Papers littered the floor and threatened to topple the large table in the center of the room. There were also a lot of maps, of all sorts of places. Some were new, others looked at least a couple of decades old.

There were also a few other things that implored to be noted. The silver ring with a large onyx in the center resting on a tattered map of an earlier Port Royal. The notched cutlass sticking out of the wall at an odd angle. The dark iron shackles in the corner gathering dust and covered in wax.

She sighed, not certain she _wanted _to stay and learn the truth. But she knew that the truth would be found out one way or another. Something odd had happened that night, when she had fallen asleep and dreamed of the island, something supernatural, and if there was one person who always seemed to be dancing the knife's edge of reality and fantasy it was that peremptory, pretentious piratical Captain.

In the far corner, reposing on a chair like he owned the world, was Captain Jack Sparrow. She stalked over to him, and held up an angry finger, all thoughts of bottling her emotions wilfully destroyed in an instant.

"I don't know how you did it... But I will find out. Somehow, you are responsible for this, I know it!". She whispered angrily, and seeing no response, took a step closer.

"Because. Every time. Something. Bad. Happens. To. Me. You. Are. Always. At. The. Center. Of. It. One. Way. Or. Another!" She punctuated each word with a furious jab into his chest.

She didn't know what response she had expected but it was certainly not the one that she received. He merely blinked once, and slowly cocked his head to the side, with an austere and acrimonious look in his hard eyes that made her skin crawl. Warily she took a few steps back and sat on the edge of the table just out of arm's reach.

"Is that what you think?" He whispered in a dangerously monotonous voice. He looked away slowly, almost confidently.

"Is...That...what you...think?" He said again slowly, with a slight emphasis on the words 'that' and 'think'. Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling, she had done a lot of that lately and detested herself for it.

He repeated his question for a third time musingly, eyebrows raised, looking at the wall behind her. After that, he propped his legs onto a stool and absentmindedly twirled a dagger identical to the one embedded in his door. The only sound was the muffled clunks his rings made when they brushed the hilt as the dagger twirled faster and faster.

"Yes!" She said, not able to stand the silence anymore. He turned his head quickly and looked her in the eyes the same chilling look in his dark eyes.

His eyes narrowed slightly and the dagger stopped spinning. He was different...and in more ways than one. The swinging lantern made it difficult to see him clearly, but as far as she could tell, he looked clean shaven, and wasn't swaying when he moved and his words were clear. He was sober!

Also, there was an air about him, a certain calculated coldness that laced his words with sarcasm and an underlying bitterness. Even in the way he sat musing, he sat on the edge of his seat ready to jump up and fight in a split second, his dagger held loosely but not carelessly. He was confidant. Confidant and dangerous. He had changed drastically, and as Elizabeth sat there, clenching her hands together in a vain effort not to tremble, watching _his _hand clench and unclench around the dagger as he stared off into the distance, she knew the change wasn't for the best.


	5. I Would Have Done The Same Thing

**Sorry this is insanely short, but I'll update quickly if I get reveiws. I have an apology that couldn't wait and this is all I have so far for a next chapter. (If you could call it that, its so short...)**

_His eyes narrowed slightly and the dagger stopped spinning. He was different...and in more ways than one. The swinging lantern made it difficult to see him clearly, but as far as she could tell, he looked clean shaven. Another thing she noticed was that he _

_wasn't swaying when he moved and his words were clear. He was sober! _

_Also, there was an air about him, a certain calculated coldness that laced his words with sarcasm and bitterness. Even in the way he sat musing, he sat on the edge of his seat ready to jump up and fight in a split second, his dagger held loosely but not carelessly. He was confidant. Confidant and dangerous. He had changed drastically, and as Elizabeth sat there, clenching her hands together in a vain effort not to tremble, watching his hand clench and unclench around the dagger as he stared off into the distance, she knew the change wasn't for the best._

He leaned back again, barely shaking his head as if in disbelief , eyes closed. His hand shook slightly as his gripped the dagger till his knuckles went white and the delicate metalwork around the hillt bit into his flesh and a single drop of blood fell to the floor.

"My fault? _My _fault!" He muttered, brow furrowed in what she supposed was mock consideration for sarcasm dripped from every sylable he spoke.

He looked at her again, his head still cocked to the side in thought. Then, unexpectadly, he smiled.

"I suppose your recent problems _are _my fault..." He drawled, still smiling, waving the dagger to make a point.

"But don't you dare," Jack's eyes narrowed again, "blame every problem in your pathetic little life on me." He leaned back again, completely at ease and tapping rythmically on the arm of his chair. _clink. clink._

"The way I see it, Lizzie dear," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "you brought this on yourself when you chained me to _my _ship and _left _me to _die_." His smile widened as he pulled his french-cocked hat down over his face.

"Not that I blame you though...Good ol' Jack would've done the same thing to you love. The same thing..."

**Hello. I haven't written any author notes for a LONG time...sorry... 1st thing first...**

**I AM SO SORRY! **

**PLEASE FORGIVE ME, ANONOMOUS REVEIWER! **

**I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR REVEIW AND THE UNDO BUTTON WAS BEING EVIL AND I CAN'T GET YOUR REVEIW BACK! **

**So if you came back to my story and noticed it gone, I didn't deleted it to spite you (I love my reveiwers) and if it isn't too much trouble _please _reveiw again.**

**I AM SO SORRY!**

**2nd thing... Last time I checked my stats. (I nearly cried, but thats beside the point) I discovered some disturbing facts...**

**275 people read my 1st chapter. 2 of them reveiwed.**

**120 people read my 2nd chapter. 3 of them reveiwed.**

**101 people read my 3rd chapter. 2 of them reveiwed.**

**53 people read my 4th chapter. 4 of them reveiwed.**

**530 hits. 11reveiws (was 12, but I already explained what happened there. SORRY) _Now_... What does this tell me? **

**A. My story is horrible. **

**B. It's not worth reveiwing because it is so bad. **

**C. My writing and story line must be so painful to gaze upon and fathom that it isn't even worth the 3 seconds it takes to press that stupid purple button and flame it!! **

**THANK YOU FAITHFUL REVEIWERS (12 OUT OF 530 CURRENTLY) YOU PEOPLE ARE THE ONLY REASON I'M CONTINUING. THANK YOU SOO MUCH!**

**PLEASE REVEIW. AND YES, FLAMES ACCEPTED. (AND AFTER MY RANT I EXPECT AT LEAST FIVE OF 'EM. BUT HEY, AT LEAST THEY'RE REVEIWING...)**


	6. The Poem that Never Dies

For a moment there was silence as she leaned back. Her face unreadable. She looked down in thought than without warning she jumped up and left him behind. He was not troubled in the least that she had run off like that. Another smile graced his features as his eyes found a gloriously full bottle of rum within arms reach.

When the empty bottle dropped from his lax grip and he began to see his room shimmer and blur at the edges there was a knock at the door. He glanced the door with morbid fascination and watched it shake with the force of the ever increasing blows to its tired wood.

He stumbled to his feet and managed his trademark swagger past the mad lamp. Although he was still a yard away he reached with outsretched fingers toward the door. The pounding had escalated to an endless drone that mercilessly battered against the door so hard that the hinges were beginning to seperate from the wood. However, he wasn't worried or frightened in the least. Why should he be? He knew what was causing the door to shake so violently.

He knew that Gibbs had taken to sitting on a lopsided stool outside his door to keep gaurd every night. Jack frowned because he also knew that while he had heard the pounding on the door that Gibbs had been staring into a hall as empty and silent as the crushing darkness of Davy Jones' Locker that they had rescued Jack from. That while the room shook with the force of the blows that Gibbs had likely been staring at a door as still as that horrible ocean surrounding that fiendish island.

Jack lightly touched the door and instantly, the pounding and shaking ceased. He then found himself walking back to his chair and clutching his bottle of rum to his chest. His eyes were heavy but before he could completely drift to sleep he noticed something.

A corner of parchment sticking out from under the base of a spluttering candle. Curious, he reached for the paper. Just out of reach... He stood, set the bottle on the table and carefully lifted the candle off of the paper. With a final splutter the candle died, sending up a thin tendril of smoke that seemed to glow in the changing light. He stared at the paper for a moment. A poem.

He ran a finger over a letter in the corner and watched as the ink smeared and bled into the letters beneath it. This had been recently written no more than, say, fifteen minutes ago. He frowned and walked over to his swinging lantern. He needed better light. For a long time he stood there staring intently and when he finally did move again it was with the air of a man who has just had a world of trouble thrust upon him. Oh he was troubled indeed. Three things were now bothering him. The first two were not so important, but the third...

It was the third that caused his shoulders to slump in sorrow as his suddenly weary body dropped into his chair... The third that allowed the bottle of rum to remain discarded on the table... Jack allowed his head to drop into his hands as he thought. That candle had not been lit by him... and no one came in here unless he was with them peronally throughout the whole visit. He even lock the door when he left, and he had his reasons to. The second thing came to him easily enough the moment he caught eye of the words. The writing... It was his. Unmistakably.

Jack sighed and ran another finger over the paper this time smearing a whole sentence.. He held the paper up vertically and watched the ink run together and begin to drip onto the floor. He had been right... The poem _had _to have been written about fifteen minutes ago, any longer and the ink wouldn't have run together so quickly. Jack continued to watch the ink drip onto the wood floor. Any shorter and he wouldn't have even been able to pick up the paper without it smudging a bit.

Fifteen minutes. Jack's frown deepened. But there was no possible way he _could _have written it. He knew because fifteen minutes ago he had thrown a dagger at Barbossa and threatened that if he ever breathed a word to Elizabeth of what _really _had happened... What _was _happening...

Jack's grip on the paper grew lax and the paper drifted to the floor. Jack looked up at the candle. Closed his eyes and held his head in his hands...

"What have I done?" He whispered... letting the question echo ominously in the room...

"What have I done?"


	7. Sable Eyes of Darkness

After she ran from Jack she tripped over Gibbs in the hallway. She must have looked pretty upset because he immediately insisted to take her up on deck to get some fresh air. She had no wish to further exhaust herself by arguing with Gibbs. . . and there was that small voice whispering in the far reaches of her mind which told her that she couldn't have been able to argue with anyone for long right now. So she put on a small smile, accepted his arm, and began the winding walk up to the deck.

Even in daytime, the interior of the _Pearl _could be dreary, but this night it was terrifying and morbid. The lamps who used to light the black halls were spaced far apart, creating pitch black shadows between them, silent as the grave. This wouldn't have been so bad, if it hadn't been for the echoes. In reality, the pattering of their footsteps should have been unnoticeable, barely heard. But the halls were empty, magnifying their steps to such a volume, one would believe an army was behind them. They finally reached the deck.

"Oh." Gibbs chuckled, "What a pleasant walk, eh, Miss Swann?"

Elizabeth slowly turned to look at him and arched an eyebrow.

"Hardly Mr. Gibbs. . ." She waved his comment to the side and remarked,

"It's like walking to the gallows down there. . .". She had meant it as a joke, but the moment the words left her mouth she realized it wouldn't be taken as one. She felt his arm stiffen beneath her hand so she pulled away. What _had _been a cheery atmosphere changed so quickly it left her dazed and more than a bit confused.

Gibbs wasn't smiling anymore. He walked to the edge of the ship and looked down at the ocean, which was crashing harmlessly against the hull of the _Pearl_. Elizabeth, not wanting to embarass herself any further, decided to join him at the rail, looking down at the sea.

". . . I see. . . Got death on the mind Miss Swann?" He whispered. He leaned a little farther over the edge.

"Not a good thing to ponder. . . Not _good _at all. . ."

Elizabeth nodded but abruptly stopped when a question came to her mind.

"What do you mean by not a. . . _good _thing?" She asked, not looking at Gibbs, for the idea frightened her, but at the sea, which had suddenly changed its mind and was writhing about the hull in distress. At first she thought he wasn't going to answer, but when she finally looked up from the tormented sea she realized Gibbs was in fact, _muttering_, but whether to her or to himself she couldn't tell. Neither was she able to quite hear his words clearly for the wind had suddenly picked up and was, almost wilfully, blowing his words away from her. The wind slowed down and Gibbs finally turned toward her.

". . . I _am _sorry Miss Swann. . . But I can't answer that question. . . Ask someone who can. . . I can't. . ." He looked off towards the _pearl's _mast, nodded slightly, and brought a bottle of rum to his lips. When he had finished he looked back at Elizabeth.

"Why?" She asked, more confused than ever.

"I made a, a" Gibbs faltered and looked a bit uneasy. He glanced over his shoulder and back again.

"A _promise _Miss Swann. . . Can't go back on it. . .No one can." He took another long swig of rum,

"Or it'll be the death of us all. . ." and with those ominous words said Gibbs walked back into the darkness of the ship, stumbling over his own feet, drinking his rum, and repeating his last words like a mantra.

Elizabeth stared after him. Then, when the echoes of his words eventually died she began to shake her head. While doing so she noticed that she was hearing something _other _than the crash of the waves against the ship, or the wind in the sails. . .

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around quickly. The man held an abnormally large lantern at such an odd angle that instead of illuminating his features, it distorted them in blackness with random chinks of light here and there. At first she thought it might be Gibbs. She made a noise of disgust. She couldn't understand _why on earth he couldn't answer such a **simple **and **trivial **question_. But the man lowered his lantern and it was Jack's features not Gibbs' that quickly came into view. Though he smiled, his eyes held no laughter.

"Oh _hardly _trivial Miss Swann. . ." He drawled out in a low voice.

His hand was still resting on her shoulder as he looked out at the sea, which was now raging war against the tired wood of the _Black Pearl. _With the lantern lowered she could see his features much more clearly. His eyes hardened, and he frowned. She didn't know quite _what _to think about that. . .

"Not trivial at all. . ." He looked her in the eyes and she noticed with a shudder that his eyes were as black as the sable deck he stood on and that none of the light from the garish lantern was reflected in his eyes, nor was her reflection there. He smiled again . Which to Elizabeth was more terrifying then when he was simply frowning.

"And death is certainly not _simple _Miss Swann"

His voice faded into the violent wind which now tore at their hair and clothes with a vengeance. Meanwhile, downstairs Captain Jack Sparrow woke with a start and reached for his dagger. . . Something was very wrong, he could feel it in the air.

Gibbs had entered and now stepped into the light of the swinging lantern. For a moment he stood there with a pensive look on his face as he watched Jack search the shadows with his dagger held high. Satisfied that they were quite alone he looked at Gibbs.

"So you were down here. . ." Gibbs remarked casually.

"And. . . You never left . . .?" He asked apprehensively.

"That's right." Jack came closer to Gibbs after resting his dagger on the table.

"Oh yes, I see. . ." A few empty bottles caught Gibbs' eye as he watched Jack sway a bit.

Jack set down the paper he had been scrutinizing and jumped a bit when he saw Gibbs.

"Why are _you _still here? What do you want?" He asked, slurring his words together. He had forgotten about Gibbs.

"Well, Captain. . . You see, I just left the deck. . . and well I. . ." Gibbs trailed off as Jack arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, well. . . All of my congratulations for your prowess and bravery at properly leaving the deck. . . Really bravo!" Jack muttered sarcastically, closer examining the paper.

"I left 'cause. . . You were up there. . . Thought you might have wanted to talk with Elizabeth a bit. . . Maybe. . . Ah, explain a few things. . .to. . .her. . ." He trailed off. Jack looked angry.

". . . And you left her up there _alone_?" Jack said after a long pause.

"Why Jack!" Gibbs chuckled for a moment, "You act as though you _care_!"

Jack grabbed his pistol, strapped on his cutlass and left the room. Gibbs just stood there watching the lantern swing back and forth, the light not reflecting in his sable eyes. . . He smiled, picked up the long dead candle and left.

**Please REVIEW. I'm begging. PLEASE! What do _you _think is happening? Any suggestions? Ideas?**

**Do you like my story so far? Is it going well? Have I dragged out the suspense for too long?**

**Review!**


	8. Remember That Oath?

Being in a hurry, Jack didn't see the man sprawled across the entire width of the hall dead asleep. So of course he tripped over him.

The man sat up shaking his fists and shouting.

"GA! WE DIDN'T CHEAT YOU OUT OF _ANYTHING_! LET US LEAVE! IT WAS THAT** TWO-TIMING, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING, BACK-STABBING' _JA_**-- Oh!" The man laughed nervously. "Oh, hello Jack. . . Fancy meeting _you _here!"

". . . _My _ship--remember?. . . Be you. . . a _spirit_?" Jack asked, narrowing his eyes.

"A spirit! By the gods Jack! You'll kill us all if you speak of 'em. . ." Gibbs exclaimed looking into the air above him. Seeing that Jack didn't _quite _believe him he jumped to his feet determined to make his case.

"Its me! Mr. Gibbs at your service Captain!" He saluted. Or attempted to, but was still groggy and the rum was doing nothing to steady his hands.

"Gibbs?" Jack stated with a dazed expression. He then looked over his shoulder anxiously. Listening for footsteps in the distance. . .

"_That's _certainly a problem isn't it? What has ol' Jack gotten himself into _this _time?" Jack muttered tossing his pistol to Gibbs.

"Oh yes." Gibbs nodded, figuring it would be in his best interests to play along with whatever hair-brained scheme that had recently reared its ugly head in Jack's mind recently.

Gibbs continued nodding. "Yes. . . Big problem. . . Indeed. . . Monumental! Catastrophic-"

Jack gave him a look. ". . . _Monumental _he says. . . You have. . . absolutely _no _idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"Not the vaguest notion, Captain." He stated in reply, looking bored with the sudden familiarity of this specific line of conversation.

"The problem," Jack stated, pulling out his cutlass and motioning for Gibbs to follow him, "Is that I just finished speaking to you, Mr. Gibbs. . . Oh, about. . . what ten minutes ago. . ."

"Oh yes. . . I can see how that. . . could be a problem. . . _I _haven't seen you all day, Jack!"

Jack sighed, ". . .And I take it you weren't on deck with Elizabeth either anytime recently. . ." He turned his head to Gibbs quickly. "Were you?"

Gibbs was beginning to look slightly guilty "No. Haven't spoken with her since. . . Well. . . For quite a while. . . Captain."

"Oh wonderful!" Jack sarcastically muttered continuing on down the winding halls of the _Pearl_.

The hall seemed a bit more cramped then usual and the lanterns inches beneath the ceiling took up a lot of space. Even so, he refused to sheath his sword. It would have been a thousand times more advantageous to simply hold his _dagger_. But he had run off too quickly and left it behind. So now he had to suffer and maneuver through a tight space, hold his sword steady (and preferably not gut himself) , _and_ maintain a conversation with the man behind him who _claimed _to be Gibbs. . . Who also happened to be holding a loaded pistol.

"It's been quiet today hasn't it?" Jack stated seconds later.

"Aye..."

"No one. . . Around. It's too quiet."

Gibbs snorted. He was quite used to the Captain's odd behavior but this was bordering the realm of insanity. Then again. . . _Everything_ Jack did was bizarre. Even in a hurry he walked with an awkward sway, banging against the confining walls with muffled thuds as if perpetually drunk. Which he usually was. But Gibbs had known Jack for too long and he knew that _something_ was wrong.

"Gibbs! Who have you seen today?"

". . . _What_?" Gibbs replied a bit startled, he had been thinking back over the past month. Anything that would give hint to what on earth had Jack worried. It wasn't so much the question that had startled him but the way Jack had asked it. Anxiously.

"The crew, " Jack replied, stating the obvious, "Which of the crew have you seen in the last day?"

Gibbs stopped walking, thinking hard. . .eventually forcing Jack to stop, turn around, and walk back to him. He did so, but not happily. The seconds were ticking on into the past painfully fast. . . and if he didn't get there in time. Gibbs was still in thought. Jack again looked over his shoulder, debating wether or not to turn back and keep walking. Time was running out, but the last thing he wanted to do was charge in unprepared. If he was right. . . The thought made him slightly dizzy.

"How many? **_Who_**?" Jack asked hurriedly, taking a step toward the door that would inevitably lead on deck.

"Ah two. . . No three. That's it! Three. . . No one else."

"_Who_?"

"Barbossa. . . yourself Jack,. . . and Elizabeth."

"Then that makes six. . ." Jack took another difficult step toward the door. Gibbs made what Jack assumed was a frustrated sound.

"No! _Three_! _THREE_! Elizabeth, Barbossa-"

"Oh" Jack was still watching Gibbs, only now there was a morbid look of surprise on his face. "Made a mistake," Gibbs heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Meant eight..." Jack's voice faded to a whisper and he both stopped walking and simply stared at the door that would lead them on deck and into the darkness.

"No! THREE!" Now it was Gibbs' voice that was became silent.

Someone was definitely beyond the door for the teasing light of a lantern was seeping through the crack beneath it. The light moved back and forth erratically suggesting frantic movement, perhaps indecision. But it was the word _trap _that came to Jack's mind. Neither of them knew why they had stopped walking. But they had and it wasn't until a long moment passed that one finally spoke.

"No one _else_. . ." Jack whispered as he came closer and closer to the door. "Are you certain?"

"What are we _dealing _with here?" Gibbs questioned watching the light continue its mad frenzy back and forth, back and forth.

"Remember that vow I made the crew take?"He whispered in a distracted manner waiting for the light to return. It didn't.

At the word vow Gibbs blanched. "Aye. . . I don't hold it against you though. . . You had no choice. It was the only way out. . . But what is it _this _time Jack?" Gibbs was staring transfixed at the spot of wood where the light had last landed before vanishing without warning.

"What's on the other side of that door?" Gibbs remarked more to himself then to Jack as Jack reached for the doorknob.

"What there _always _is when I open a door I shouldn't. . ." He muttered as the door creaked open and they both walked through tense and wary. Something alarmingly out of place caught Gibbs' eye. . .

"_What are we **dealing **with here Jack_?"

"The oath. . . Someone broke it. . . And we may all die for it. . ." Jack replied in a light, almost cheery tone while shifting his hold on his cutlass so he could better block the attack that he was expecting any moment now. He noticed that Gibbs had managed to pale even more.

So Jack forced a wry smile.

"Won't keep us from fighting to the end though will it?"

I know I've thrown a lot of information and confusing things at you in such a short time.

I was attempting to make my story more, what's the word? _Complicated_ I suppose. Because I felt it was going nowhere _really_ quickly.

I am going to post a fanfic called What REALLY is Happening sometime soon. It's a series of interviews with the main characters about how they feel the story is going, funny things that have happened during Silver Sands, and also the discarded fifth chapter that would have changed EVERYTHING!

I'll have it up as soon as I finish the first chapter so do check it out and let me know if you like it... Oh and REVIEW! PLEASE!

Any ideas about what's happening? Any suggestions. . . At all? Was Jack in character? Gibbs also? Did you like the new chapter? If you had trouble figuring out who was speaking or who was thinking this, saying that, etc. let me know and I'll try to fix it!

I tried to show that the ship is a crowded place to be in (below deck). Did I succeed? Or was it just a waste of words that detracted from the chapter?

The next chapter may take awhile, I haven't started yet. (Well I tried. . . But it was really cheesy and pathetic so I erased the document.) But when I do I'll definitely upload it ASAP!

Please review. You have no idea how excited I get over reviews. They really encourage and inspire me. I WILL write faster if I get A LOT of reviews for a new chapter. Flames accepted. (They will make me sad, but I will take them as constructive criticism and I LOVE reviews anyway.)

If you want me to read (and REVIEW) your story just send me a message via my profile page.


	9. Doesn't matter!

**Sorry for taking so long with this one... I had the first half of it written and the second half I only had the dialogue written so that's why this chap. reads funny...**

**Well... I tried uploading this chapter a few days ago and for whatever reason the first paragraph got cut off... So sorry about that. Here's the whole chapter.**

**Be warned. It just sort of stops... but I'll try to get another chapter up as soon as possible... Once I write it... I'm sort of short on inspiration and ideas right now... Any suggestions greatly appreciated. Please review! Means the world to me...**

* * *

"What are you up to?" He murmured taking a few steps toward a tall stack of crates.

The night sky remained cloudless and the waves moiled against the wood of the Pearl ceaselessly. Jack was careful to step lightly, balancing on the balls of his feet and avoiding loose boards like the plague as he neared port side.

The sound of cloth being torn echoed through the silence like a canon blast. The crates were stacked about a foot from the rail leaving one just enough room to remain hidden. Suddenly Jack darted forward in an attempt to catch the person off guard. He was puzzled to find the area deserted and a thick film of dust that lay undisturbed at his feet.

"Perhaps you should get some rest. . ." Gibbs suggested returning Jack's pistol. Jack was quiet. Gibbs disappeared into the doorway and down the sporadic halls leaving the captain behind.

An hour later it was still night and Jack was wide awake. After searching every nook and cranny on that deck he had found nothing. Nothing at all.

Jack sighed and pulled one of the many daggers out of his door.

"How'd that get there? Oh..."

He stood still for a moment watching the light dance across the blade. An idea hit him and he crossed back to the table. Resting exactly where he had left it was the poem- now slightly crumpled and blotched in places. The ink that Jack had forced to run together had fully hardened causing the paper to warp and the words had adopted deviating shapes and lines.

"Eight of us now." He muttered. "So all I have to do now is figure out who is who. . ." Jack crossed back to the table and leaned against it eying the swinging lantern. He sighed.

"This shouldn't be too hard. . . " His hand closed around the neck of a full bottle and he slowly dragged it towards him. He took a long drink, rocking back on his heels as he did so.

". . . It's what to do with 'em next that'll cause problems. . ." Jack muttered darkly as he sunk down into his chair and closed his eyes thinking back over the past few weeks.

After he had died. . . He shuddered remembering the island. Images flashed through his mind: the sandy quagmire, the labyrinth-like halls with shifting walls and doorways, the eerie words that appeared everywhere- scratched into the ebony of the stairway, written on the walls, sewn into tapestries... The words that vanished on second glance.

When his crew finally did show up it was only moments until they were surrounded and the light of a hundred torches had left him dazed. He could no longer remember what exactly had surrounded them. . . It was these dark memories that he was pondering when his door began to open.

"Do you know where we are now?" Elizabeth asked.

"Doesn't matter. . . Where's my bottle?"

". . . Doesn't _matter_!"

"'Course it does! Give me that!" Jack snatched a full bottle off the table.

"Why is the sun rising now?"

"It's 9 o'clock."

"... At night!?"

"Your watch is broken." He replied. Annoyed, he walked out of the room.

"It's not!"

"You can't keep me in the dark forever. Where are we?"

"Doesn't matter where we are because as long as those things are on my ship we won't be going anywhere any time soon! Are you _happy_ now?" He continued walking. Well, he continued to _stagger _around the halls of the Pearl as much as he could being in such a narrow space. He looked back.

"We're in the Caribbean love, so go... run off and do whatever it is women do in their spare time. Oh and leave my rum... Why are _you_ still here?" He pulled a lantern off the wall and pushed open a door. Finding himself on deck he immediately rushed to the railing and looked down into the sea.

"You were found on an island, weren't you? Why was I asleep for a month? Where was I? Who took my place?" Her words were drawn out and spoken slowly.

". . . You don't say. . . Where's that bottle. . . Just had it. . . I know I did!" He leaned farther over the edge.

". . ."

"I had to get off that island, somehow..." He remarked. Hid head came up and he smiled briefly before walking toward a familiar stack of crates laying port side.

"... Seeing as you... Had such an active part in my. . . untimely demise... I figured you wouldn't be angry over a month..." the topmost crate came apart. (As would nearly anything if kicked _that_ hard by a determined pirate...)

"What?"

"I traded a month of your life for my freedom..." He said cheerfully, having found a crate of rum.

"What about the crew? How did they get away?"

"...Oh. Had to go against themselves, you see. Copies of 'emselves you could say. Evil things. . . All of 'em made it! I think. . ." He cast a suspicious eye about the deck searching the shadows formed by the rising sun.

"... Then there was the _Pearl._.. Just waitin'... Floating off shore..."


End file.
